A Spoonful Of Sugar
by TruthxLiesxMagic
Summary: Formerly 'Sweetness And Bitterness'. A collection of semi-connected, semi-AU Sweenett oneshots, placed during and before the movie. This is pure fluff, ladies and gents. Complete for now.
1. A Bit Of Jam

**Sweetness And Bitterness**

A/N: Okay, I've decided that it would be better to put my next Sweeney/Lovett fics into one place, since they're all (somewhat) connected. Each Oneshot will have its own chapter, and please bear in mind they might not be in chronological order, so if times seem somewhat messed up, that's why.

* * *

A Bit Of Jam

_Summary: Mr Todd can't abide how Mrs Lovett always misses a spot when she's cleaning up. Sweeney/Lovett fluff, short and sweet_.

Mrs Lovett finished the fruit pie and stood back, proud at how well her first non-meat pie on months had come out. Summer was in the air, and she'd wanted to try something different for tea. Of course, she and Toby would eat most of it, though she would take a slice up for Mr Todd later. But first she had to bake it. Picking up her masterpiece, the baker descended into the bake house and set the pie baking, the smell of cooking fruit sending her nose twitching, and making her realise that she was rather hungry now.

_I'll have a nice bit o' bread an' jam._ She decided. _Good chance to use up that strawberry jam before it goes bad._

Once back in the kitchen, the baker cut herself a couple of slices of bread and slathered them in strawberry jam, a luxury she'd never have been able to afford before Mr Todd arrived. She'd appreciated being able to buy things like jam so much, she'd tried to eke it out, but between herself and Toby – Heavens forbid Mr Todd would have something so sweet – the jar had ended up empty rather quickly. Biting into the first slice, Mrs Lovett remembered when she used to eat her mam's homemade strawberry jam in the summer, back when she was a little girl. She quickly finished her snack and, dusting crumbs off herself, set about cleaning up after her baking session.

Just as she'd finished sweeping up the last crumb, Mrs Lovett looked up as the bell rang to signal someone entering the shop. Mr Todd was stood a little awkwardly at the doorway.

"You can come in, you know." She told him teasingly. "Closed up early, 'ave you?"

"No customers." He replied shortly, sitting down on the wooden bench. After a few moments he looked up at her properly, and something twitched in his face, almost as if something was irritating him. Mrs Lovett just restrained herself from rolling her eyes. What had she done now?

"What's wrong?" She asked, some of her exasperation showing in her voice, as she wiped down an already clean plate, watching the barber out of the corner of her eye.

"Nothing." The word was short and tight. He was stopping himself saying something.

"Yes there is." Mrs Lovett disagreed, her curiosity sparked. Normally Mr Todd wasn't one to suffer in silence as it were. "You've got that look on your face."

For a fleeting second, an extremely crafty expression flickered in his eyes, and then it was gone so quickly that Mrs Lovett wondered if she'd imagined it.

"Maybe I should just show you, my dear." He said, standing, and making his way over to the baker. With a quick movement, he snaked a hand around her slim waist and pulled her – not all that un-gently – forwards, quickly kissing her jawbone.

"Just a bit of jam, my dear Mrs Lovett." He whispered in her ear, his breath tickling the skin. "I can't stand it when you miss a spot."


	2. Bright Mornings

**Bright Mornings**

Summary: He couldn't remember ever having mornings so bright. Not even with Lucy. Some OOC-ness. Pure, un-diluted fluff.

A/N: I think I have some sort of disease that prevents me from writing Sweenett fluff exceeding a page or so. Is it just me? Or did I just get the lazy muses? This is my shortest one yet. I swear the next one will be my longest to make up for it.

* * *

Sweeney watched as Nellie's eyelashes fluttered slightly and her eyes opened.

"Good morning." He whispered.

"Mornin'." The baker replied, snuggling into his chest. A moment later she gave a gasp and sat bolt upright, glancing out of the window, through which bright morning sunlight was streaming.

"Oh no!" Nellie muttered, wriggling out of Sweeney's hold and jumping up, muttering all the while. "How late is it? I should've been up hours ago! People'll be wantin' pies."

"Nellie…"

"An' I was sold out yesterday, so I'll have to start from scratch, an' Toby'll be wonderin' why I'm not up, an'-"

"_Nellie._"

"Oh, _why_ did we oversleep?"

Sweeney realised she wasn't listening to him. So he did the only thing he could think of. He stood up, walked over to the near-hysterical baker and kissed her quite forcefully.

"Nellie, love." He whispered into her auburn hair when they separated. "It's Sunday."

"Oh." The baker thought for a moment. "So it is. Huh."

"Shall we start again?"

"I'd like that."

Sweeney smirked, and picked her up easily, his arms under her shoulders and knees, and walked over to the bed, depositing her neatly and laying beside her, whereupon Nellie promptly resumed her previosu position. They seemed to go through this routine at least once a fortnight. They woke up late on a Sunday, Nellie panicked because she forgot what day it was, and then he carried her back to bed, silently amused the ease with which she panicked.

He couldn't remember ever having mornings so bright. Not even with Lucy. Whatever happened, life was never dull for Sweeney and Nellie.


	3. An Education In Romantic Pursuits

**An Education In Romantic Pursuits**

Summary: Benjamin teaches Nellie how to read, and an unlikely friendships springs up between them, but can Nellie teach her heart to let her apprentice barber go?

A/N: Okay, this is technically more Nellie/Benjamin than Nellie/Sweeney (and we all know the difference) BUT I'm thinking of doing one or two other oneshots based on this, so I figured if this wasn't put up then they wouldn't make as much sense.

* * *

Nellie hummed quietly to herself as she sat outside her house, rubbing polish into her father's shoes. The sharp smell had been unpleasant at first, but she had quickly grown used to it, and now rather liked the strange aroma. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and Nellie just _knew_ someone was watching her, Slowly raising her eyes from her work, she caught sight of a boy her own age sat across the road, hunched over a sketchbook, his dark brown hair falling messily – and yet attractively – over his face. A light blush formed on his skin when he realised he'd been caught staring.

"Hello…" Nellie called nervously. The boy smiled weakly.

"Sorry." He replied. "I was just sketching you. If you mind, I can stop…?"

"Why d'you want to sketch me?" The words tumbled out of Nellie's mouth before she could stop them. She was genuinely surprised. Nellie knew she was no great beauty, and she had to be dirty from the day's chores. Why on earth would this boy want to draw her? Peering, Nellie deduced he wasn't from this part of London – his clothes were too clean, too neat, and his face didn't have the gaunt look of those who regularly didn't get enough to eat.

"Well…" The boy's blush deepened a little. "You're pretty."

Nellie laughed.

"Alright, you've 'ad your joke." She smiled good-naturedly. "Now what's the real reason?"

"I said." The boy glanced around, stood, and walked over to the other side of the road, sitting again a couple of feet from Nellie, seemingly not noticing that his clothes were quickly becoming dirty from sitting on the ground. "You're pretty."

"No I'm not." Nellie felt her own cheeks warm. She noticed distractedly that the boy's brown eyes were rather beautiful. Self-consciously, she raised a hand to pat her wild curls into place.

"Don't!" A hand reached out to stop her arm's advance, and the boy blushed even deeper, quickly releasing her wrist when Nellie gave him a puzzled glance. "Er… sorry. Only, I haven't finished your hair yet."

"Oh." Nellie thought for a moment. "Can I see the picture?"

"When it's finished."

"Y'know, you're 'ere drawin' me, an' I don't even know your name." Nellie commented. "I'm Eleanor Andrews, but most folks call me Nellie."

"Benjamin Barker." He replied, holding out a hand. Nellie took it and they shook hands, smiling.

"Pleased to meet'cha, I'm sure." She said. Benjamin nodded, but he was already going back to his sketch. Nellie just managed to hold back a giggle as his tongue just poked out of the corner of his mouth with concentration.

After a couple of minutes had passed in silence – but not a bad kind, simply a contended silence between two people that were happy to be in each other's presence – Nellie judged that Benjamin was no longer taking note of her actions beyond observations necessary for his sketch. The teen girl moved slightly, and tried to peer at the drawing. Benjamin held the sketchbook flat against his chest, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"It's not finished yet." He reminded her. Nellie put on her best innocent face.

"Wasn't lookin'." She sniffed.

"Of course not." Benjamin rolled his eyes expressively.

"I wasn't!"

Benjamin simply rolled his eyes and went back to his sketch.

Finally, Benjamin heaved a sigh of relief and sat back from his sketchbook with a satisfied smile.

"It's done." He announced, carefully tearing the page out and handing it to Nellie. She couldn't find any words to voice her feelings. Benjamin looked putout when she didn't say anything after almost a minute.

"Is it that bad?"

"No…" Nellie breathed. "Oh, Benjamin, it's wonderful! But I think you need glasses. I…" She shook her head. The sketch showed a beautiful teen girl, with curls framing her face attractively, and a few smudges of dirt on her face that, rather that detract from her image of happiness, only seemed to add to it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with some hidden secret.

"Can I keep it?" Nellie asked, tracing a finger over the lines of the sketch.

"O-Of course." Benjamin smiled nervously. "If you don't like it, don't take it to be kind."

"What makes you think I don't like it?" Nellie demanded. "I'll keep it jus' to 'alf-convince meself I look like that."

Benjamin gave her an odd look, as if he was confused by her logic, but shrugged casually, glancing away from her, and at his watch, whereupon his face paled considerably.

"What's wrong?" Nellie felt worry begin to bubble inside her. Benjamin shook his head.

"I should have been home half an hour ago. As far as my family are concerned, I'm in Hyde Park." He replied with a wry smile. "Ah, how fickle a thing time is when we are doing things we enjoy."

"You enjoy your sketchin' that much?"

"That… and talking with a pretty girl." Benjamin held up a hand to stop any protests. "I read once, Nellie, that beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

The young man stood, his sketchbook under his arm. Nellie stood too, more awkwardly, and ran her tongue over her lips nervously.

"Er… Might I see you again?"

"I should think so." Benjamin impatiently swept away a lock of his beautiful brown hair, which caught the sunlight just so. "For now, though, farewell Nellie."

"G'dbye." Nellie replied, feeling foolish next to this handsome, educated, talented boy.

_Still_, she consoled herself. _'E can't have found me that boring. 'E's comin' back after all, right?_

Sighing, Nellie settled herself back on the doorstep after Benjamin had disappeared from sight, returning to her original task of polishing her father's shoes. Her mind was not on her task, however, but instead on the beautiful Benjamin Barker.

* * *

After that first meeting, Nellie and Benjamin saw each other with a somewhat erratic series of meetings, which consisted of at least one of them sneaking away to see the other. But even though she was often berated by her parents for skipping chores, Nellie had never felt more alive, more free and happy. She felt she could say anything that popped into her head while she was around Benjamin and he wouldn't judge her by it, or think her silly. She grew to recognise his moods, how a certain way he held himself betrayed how he was feeling. She knew of his virtues – naivety, generosity, open-mindedness, patience… She could go on.

But it was on one particular afternoon, when both of them had snuck away to Hyde Park, that Nellie learnt just how patient and generous Benjamin really was.

* * *

They were sat in the shade of a tree, exchanging few words, simply enjoying the sunny day. Nellie was happy to sit and watch the world go by, and Benjamin was reading a book. The title was illegible to Nellie, the same as every word on every page, or near enough. The redhead leaned forwards a little, trying to glimpse her friend's expression, so as to get a clue as to what the book was about. Benjamin caught her looking out of the corner of his eye and she blushed.

"Nellie?"

"Er… Jus' wonderin' what book you were readin'." She answered, half-truthfully.

"Oh." Benjamin held the cover up to show her. Nellie made out a countryside scene, and letters, but they made no sense to her. "Looks interestin'." She commented lamely. Benjamin raised an eyebrow questioningly, and then something seemed to click. He gave a soft 'oh' of understanding.

"Can you read, Nellie?"

The redhead girl shook her head, hiding her blushing face behind her auburn curls. Benjamin placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, and a shiver of pleasure ran through her, which she guiltily beat down.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Benjamin went on, and then hesitated. "I could teach you… if you like?"

Nellie shook her head again, meeting her friend's eyes determinedly.

"I can't be takin' up your time with that." She admonished. "What with you jus' startin' your barberin' 'prenticeship an' all. You won't 'ave the time."

"Of course I have the time. I could teach you a little every time we meet up like this." The brunette retorted with a triumphant smile.

"But…" Nellie floundered, not exactly sure herself why she didn't want to learn how to read, other than because she didn't want to put Benjamin out. "I've managed for thirteen years, 'aven't I? Why start now?"

"It can only help, my dear." Benjamin admonished with a smile and a spark to his eyes that Nellie recognised as utter determination to get his own way. She also was torn between happiness at the pet name and annoyance. There were probably no more than eighteen months between the two of them in age, and yet sometimes Benjamin seemed to treat her a little younger. Not, seemingly, through malicious intent, but because he apparently thought of her as a little sister or someone of similar stature. Nellie felt herself beginning to waver, and Benjamin, seemingly noting this, gave her his best appealing look, effectively reducing Nellie to a small pile of girl-in-love with no willpower of her own.

"All right." She gave in, and pointed to the title of the book. "What does that say?"

Benjamin began to point out the shapes of the letters, what they meant, and Nellie rested her head on his shoulder, that same guilty feeling of happiness floating through her. She couldn't deny it – she'd stopped trying weeks ago. She loved Benjamin Barker, heart and soul.

For five years, all was well.

And then _she_ came.

* * *

Nellie knew something was wrong as soon as she saw Benjamin approaching across the square. They were meeting in the marketplace, seeing as nobody took particular notice to who was with whom here. Nobody would look twice at a higher-class teen and a slum girl being together.

But today, Benjamin was not alone. Walking with him was an achingly beautiful girl. For a moment, Nellie even thought that her dear Benjamin was accompanied by an angel sent straight from heaven. But no, it was a girl their age. With golden curls tumbling around slim shoulders and a pale face, in which was set a pair of large, sky-blue eyes framed by perfect, long golden lashes. A cream lace and silk dress floated around her, enhancing her ethereal appearance. Benjamin seemed entranced, speaking excitably to her; his eyes alight with something Nellie was sure she'd only glimpsed when he was talking to her. Nellie raised an arm and waved, hoping to catch his attention. Thankfully the movement caught his eye and she was to left looking foolish. Benjamin indicated Nellie to the girl and they walked over.

"Hello, Nellie." He greeted the redhead in his usual friendly manner, but there was a note of excitement in his voice. "This is Lucy. Lucy Saunders."

"Hello." Nellie replied with a small forced smile, simmering inside that Benjamin had brought this girl along to their special meeting. "I'm Eleanor Andrews." She didn't add her nickname, but nobody seemed to notice. Nellie had taken an instant… not exactly _dislike_ to Lucy, but the girl made her wary. And with good reason. Benjamin may well have said at their first meeting that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, but no beholder could reason that Nellie compared to Lucy at all. It was like choosing between silk sheets and rough, homespun cotton ones. The difference between finest steak and stale meat pies.

And Lucy's last name rang a bell. Nellie thought hard, and suddenly she had it.

"Saunders?" She echoed, turning to Benjamin. "Ain't that the name o' the man who's trainin' you?"

"Yes, he's my father." Lucy answered. "Ben and I have been good friends for quite a while now, haven't we?"

Nellie blinked, confused. Benjamin had never mentioned the girl to her before – and also… Ben? He'd told Nellie once that he hated his own name being shortened, and so Nellie never did it unless on some extremely rare occasion she was annoyed at him for some reason, and even then she always felt guilty about it. Benjamin didn't even look uncomfortable at Lucy's use of the abbreviation though.

"Yes, we have. Though Nellie and I have known each other even longer."

Ah, so maybe he had detected Nellie's uneasiness. But the hint was apparently too subtle for Lucy. Looking back at a later date, Nellie supposed the girl hadn't meant any harm, nor had had any malicious intent. She simply didn't have as broad a mind as Benjamin.

"Oh, this is the girl you were talking about!" Lucy smiled patronizingly at Nellie. "The slum girl you taught to read and write. That was very charitable, love. I did wonder why you were always going off East-ending."

Nellie saw red. Who did this Lucy think she was, bewitching her Benjamin, keeping his eyes on her and her alone? What right did she have to be an angel that Nellie could never compete with? Without so much as a word, Nellie turned and stormed away, knowing that it was either that or she ended up slapping Lucy's angelic face. And no matter how much the girl infuriated Nellie, she was Benjamin's friend, and he might hate her if she did that. There was a call from behind her, and a hand on Nellie's shoulder. She shrugged it off and began to run, ignoring Benjamin calling her name behind her.

Nellie took little to no notice of her surroundings, just knowing she had to put as much distance as she could between herself and Lucy – and preferably find somewhere she could cry alone. So when she finally stopped for breath, and glanced around, it was with mixed feelings Nellie discovered she was at the docks. Sighing, she plopped herself down on a nearby crate, slouched with her face in her hands. Tears of self-pity, anger and pain of the fact she felt betrayed mingled with ach other as they ran down her ghostly pale face. How foolish she'd been, to think that one day she and Benjamin might marry! Of course he was bound to find a pretty girl such as Lucy. He was lucky like that. He deserved a wife as beautiful as that. Not just someone average like herself.

Even if she did love him with all her heart and soul.

There was the sound of someone sitting beside Nellie and an arm was thrown around her shoulder. She looked up quickly, ready to give whoever it was a hard slap, but relaxed when she saw it was only Michael, her oldest brother.

"What's got you down in the dumps, Nellie?" He asked, voice cheerful. Michael worked in the docks, mostly loading and unloading boats, helping with minor repairs, and any other odd jobs going. Nellie muttered something she hoped was unintelligible.

"Barker?" Michael echoed, his brow furrowing. "What's 'e done? If 'e's 'urt you, I'll knock 'is teeth out!"

"NO!" Nellie screeched, and then blushed as nearby men turned to stare at them, quickly looking at something else when Michael sent around a communal glare.

"Then why…?"

And the story came pouring out. Nellie had always felt she could talk best with Michael and Coral – her oldest sister. She told her brother how Lucy had arrived with Benjamin, how she'd referred to his friendship with Nellie as charity. When she had finished Michael stood up, a determined look on his face.

"Right." He said, cracking his knuckles. "Where is 'e?"

"Didn't you listen to a word I jus' said?" Nellie said exasperatedly. "'E ain't to blame, it's that angel I tell you."

"Oh." Michael sank back down onto the crate, scratching his head thoughtfully. "That don't feel as vengeful."

Nellie chuckled, and looked out onto the river.

"I'd best be getting' back to the house." She commented to nobody in particular. "Mother'll wonder where I got to."

* * *

When she got back home – some time later, having taken a meandering route – Nellie sagged with disbelief. No. Just… no. She couldn't possibly be cursed this badly, could she? To have Lucy standing a small ways from her home, peering around the streets was just too much. And yet, when Lucy turned and saw the redhead girl approaching, something extremely unexpected happened. Lucy rushed over, and embraced Nellie anxiously, babbling apologies.

"Oh, Eleanor, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't realise how awful that sounded until I'd said it. We were so worried. Ben went and looked around Hyde Park, and I walked around the market but we couldn't find you anywhere. I was so afraid that you'd ended up hurt, just because I'd made you go off like that. So I had Ben tell me the street you lived on so I could watch for you coming home."

"Lucy." Nellie began gently, trying to prise the girl off her. The blonde released Nellie immediately and stepped backwards, embarrassed by her forwardness. Nellie took a good long look at her and realised with a sinking heart that she would never be able to bring herself to truly and wholly hate Lucy. She was just too kind, too good, too pretty, too perfect to hate.

"It's all right. I shouldn't 'ave taken offence like that."

"No, I should have thought." Lucy assured the redhead. Nellie smiled crookedly.

"Well, shall we go and find Benjamin?" She suggested. Lucy smiled and nodded, slipped her arm around Nellie's elbow as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I think he's still in Hyde Park, he seemed to think you'd go there."

"No, I ended up down at the docks." Nellie explained.

As the two girls walked towards Hyde Park, Nellie reflected that, even if she couldn't love Benjamin as a wife loved her husband, she could rely on Lucy to be a good wife. It would break her heart to see them together, but maybe the knowledge that they were happy would go towards stitching it back together again.

And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, one day she'd get another chance to love Benjamin Barker…

* * *

Mrs Lovett traced one pale finger over the lines and shading of the portrait she was holding, a small melancholy smile on her face. An iritated sigh brought her back to her senses, and she looked up to see Mr Todd shaking his head, sat at the bench.

"You've been acting strangely all day, Mrs Lovett." He said in response to the questioning look the baker sent his way. Mrs Lovett shrugged, and tossed her auburn curls carelessly.

"Jus' reminiscing, love." She replied, returning her gaze once more to the portrait Benjamin Barker had drawn of the thirteen-year-old Nellie all those years ago. "'Bout 'ow much a friend did for me... 'fore 'e died, that is."

"A friend?" The barber's interest was piqued. He obviously didn't catch the hint in her voice. Mrs Lovett stood, leaving the piece of aged paper on the counter.

"Yeah. 'E died... must be fifteen years ago now. In Australia."

For a brief moment, barber and baker stared at each other, and then Mr Todd shrugged, and downed the last of his gin.

"Well, I can understand why."

There was another silence, longer this time. And it was ended by an unexpected question.

"D'you ever read, Mrs Lovett?"

"That I do, love." The baker replied, a strange expression on her face. "It can only help, after all."

"That it can, my dear." The barber stared out of the window. "That it can indeed..."


	4. Puppy Love

**Puppy Love**

Summary: "That's the last time you let Toby bring an animal into this place."

A/N: Well, I felt in a silly mood writing this, so they're acting a bit childish and probably somewhat OOC. Which is half the reason I chose puppy love as a title. As for the other half… well, you'll see. Oh, and I've started reading _The String Of Pearls_ and practically laughed my head off at the description of Sweeney. Hehe, Indian warrior indeed.

* * *

Mrs Lovett hummed to herself as she went about cleaning up the shop ready for the following day. The dinner plates were soaking in the sink, the pies were prepared ready for baking in the morning, and she was all but done cleaning the various surfaces. As she went to wipe down the table, a strong arm looped around her waist and firmly pulled her onto the bench, whereupon she was effectively held captive.

"Mr T!" The baker rolled her eyes, swatting at the barber playfully. "I 'ave work to do."

"You're almost done, pet." He murmured into her ear, his breath tickling her. "And you know dam well how much I love it when you… drop in."

"Oh yeah, I 'ad a right lot o' choice in the matter."

Even so, Nellie flung the cloth onto the table and shuffled round to kiss her barber, giving a small moan when he bit down on her lip and moved his skilled hands up and down her sides.

Mr Todd was just moving his hands to unfasten her gown when the sound of footsteps coming towards the shop reached their ears. They separated reluctantly. It was probably a good thing they'd been interrupted, seeing as they were in front of a window with the net curtains wide open for all the world to see inside. But right then they didn't see it that way.

"That bloody boy…" Sweeney grumbled. Nellie patted his cheek affectionately.

"Now, now, love, don't get yourself in a tizzy."

Sweeney grumbled something unintelligible, as the door was flung open and Toby appeared, grinning happily and clutching a small mongrel dog in his arms. It seemed to have been originally brown, but there were so many other colours mixed in with the fur from God-knows how many places or things that it was impossible to be certain.

"What on Earth…?" Nellie stood up as gracefully as possible and set her hands on her hips. "Toby-"

The young boy cut her off.

"Mum, I found 'im by the workhouse, an' look Mum, 'e's so thin, an' I always wanted a dog, I 'ave. So… so could we maybe keep 'im, Mum? Please?"

"Oh, well." Nellie floundered, glancing at Sweeney for support either way, and he simply shrugged. Looking back at Toby she sagged in the wake of his pleading expression. Even the damn dog seemed to be pouting at her, wagging its little misshapen tail. Sighing, she rubbed her temples.

"Oh, all right, you can keep 'im." Nellie conceded with a sigh, and was almost knocked over a moment later by the hug Toby gave her.

"Thank you, Mum! 'E won't be no trouble, 'onest."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a soft touch." The baker smiled, ruffling Toby's hair.

When Toby released his adoptive mother, the dog in his arms wiggled free and jumped onto the table, standing in front of Sweeney, and giving a couple of short yaps, before sitting down and fixing the barber with a questioning look.

"What?" Sweeney asked irritably, and Nellie bit her lip to prevent a chuckle escaping at his sulking posture.

The dog waggled its back end playfully before bounding onto Sweeney in one leap and licking his cheek enthusiastically, before jumping to the floor and returning to Toby's side.

A moment passed in silence.

At the end of the second Toby was shaking slightly with the effort of not laughing at what had just happened and Sweeney's outraged and disgusted expression.

Byt the third neither Toby nor Nellie could hold their laughter back, and Toby scooped the dog up and ran back outside before Sweeney could do anything to him. Nellie had to lean on the counter she was laughing so hard, wiping tears from her eyes. Sweeney wiped his face with his sleeve, his face set darkly.

"It wasn't that funny." He grunted, and then sighed. "That's the last time you let Toby bring an animal into this place. I hate dogs."

"It was too." Nellie argued through her laughter, trying to stop. "'Sides, you don't 'ate dogs. What 'bout 'Arry?"

"Harry." Sweeney declared. "Was a thoroughbred greyhound. He certainly didn't just _lick peoples' faces!_"

"'E did too." Nellie shook her head, her laughs now dying down to giggles. "'E bloomin' pinned me down when 'e firs' saw me."

"Well, love, you're special."

"That's what you call it then?"

"Indeed I do."

Nellie shook her head again, and resumed what she had been doing before – namely, cleaning the various counters in the shop. Unfortunately, she realised she'd left her cloth on the table. And of course, if she went over there, judging by the glint in Sweeney's eyes, she wouldn't be resuming her cleaning any time soon. The barber seemed to realise her predicament, and held the cloth up innocently.

"Need something, my pet?" He asked. Nellie weighed up her chances of grabbing the cloth before he resumed their earlier activity. Not that she didn't want to, but she had work to do. Casting an eye over the kitchen, the baker correctly surmised that yes, the cloth Sweeney was holding was the only one she had.

Just. Simply. Perfect.

Oh well, she'd have to take her chances. Sashaying casually over to the barber, Nellie quickly darted out a hand, snatched the cloth out of his hand and neatly sidestepped the other hand that tried to grab her.

…Or at least, it would have been neatly, if she hadn't stepped on the hem of her dress, causing her to stumble and fall, staggering, onto Sweeney's chest. He looked surprised only for a moment, before locking his arms around her waist, pulling her closer so their faces were only a few inches apart.

"Mrs Lovett…" He breathed.

"Yes?" Nellie's heart thudded faster, certain he was about to kiss her, and now suddenly not minding that she had work to do at all. Sweeney's expression became bored and disinterested.

"Don't you have work to do?"

Nellie glared at his change of heart, and then shrugged.

"It can wait." She replied, pressing her lips to Sweeney's.


	5. Innocent Things

**Innocent Things**

Summary: Sometimes innocent observations can lead to less innocent pursuits. Especially when the object of said observation is unaware she is being watched.

A/N: Another pre-movie oneshot. And pretty much AU at that, but the idea came to me and it was so sweet and fluffy I couldn't **NOT** write it. Plus, Benjamin/Nellie is sweet in its own right.

Also, I've noticed I'm yet to post an angsty oneshot here. I might have to change the summary to reflect this, and the title. How does _A Spoonful Of Sugar_ sound for a new title?

* * *

Benjamin bit down hard on his bottom lip so as to not let out a chuckle as he watched his friend sleeping peacefully, the strangest expression on her face. After several moments he returned his gaze to the book in his hands, determined to finish another couple of chapters before the day was out, but almost a minute later he realised he had read the same line a dozen times. With a sigh, Benjamin gave it up as a bad job, and allowed himself the luxury of letting his eyes wander to where they wanted to be: gazing at the petite form resting against his shoulder. He hadn't been able to help but notice Nellie lately – or, more specifically, her looks. Of course, he had always thought her pretty – beautiful, even – though whenever he voiced this opinion the girl would blush and insist he must be joking.

Now his eyes wandered easily over her, taking in all the little details. Her wild red curls, pinned up hastily, but still gleaming brightly in the afternoon sunlight. Her pink lips, moving slightly in her sleep as she half-formed silent words. Her pale, almost porcelain skin, marred only by the large purple bags under her eyes. Benjamin's brow furrowed a little at this addition to Nellie's face. She was working far too hard trying to help her parents make enough money, though she wouldn't slow down for anything. The dress she was wearing was yet more evidence of this fact: it was worn almost threadbare, the colour faded, and it was patched in at least half a dozen places, if not more. Benjamin glanced almost guiltily at his own clothes, newly bought, and wished for the hundreth – no, probably the thousandth – time that Nellie would let him buy her something, even if it was just a new dress. He couldn't help but feel guilty when he saw he working so hard for so little, when he had so much.

Benjamin absent-mindedly slid an arm around her shoulders so his fingers could play with her hair, twirling several curls around his fingers. It was something as natural to him now as breathing, almost. It was just something he did whenever they were sat together like this. But now, Benjamin was suddenly aware of the warm curve of Nellie's neck beneath his hand also, and her pulse; even in sleep, setting a rhythm that was considerably slower than the beat of his own heart, and he tried to distract himself by inspecting Nellie's hair, trying to think like a barber. He noted that is was knotted again, and made a mental note to bring a hairbrush with him next time they met up so he could detangle it. Nellie's hair was so beautiful; it was a shame to let it get into a mess like it had. Not that Nellie had time to be worrying about her hair.

That guilt, again.

Benjamin shook himself out of his reverie, and picked up his book again, utterly determined to lose himself in the story of Robinson Crusoe, but somehow the intricate tale spun by Daniel Defoe didn't seem as intriguing as it had before he had begun to observe the young woman beside him more closely. Even so, Benjamin persevered, hoping that this strange intrigue would leave him if he concentrated on the novel in his hands, although deep down he hoped that it wouldn't, for the feeling was so new and different that he couldn't quite bring himself to want it to leave entirely.

But it would be nice if it didn't take over his thoughts so, and draw his eyes to Nellie's sleeping form, to her soft pink lips, like rose petals…

* * *

Nellie woke at the sensation of something pressing against her lips briefly. Blearily, she opened her eyes, half-expecting to see an image from her dream, hoping to find that yes, she and Benjamin were really married, and he did love her…

Instead, she saw that they were in Hyde Park, and that she had fallen asleep again. Benjamin was watching her with an almost guilty expression on his face, and his cheeks were slightly flushed. A thought shot through Nellie's blurred consciousness, but she all but disregarded it before it was even fully formed. Surely Benjamin hadn't…?

"Benjamin," Nellie began, a little blearily. "Did you jus' kiss me?"

"What?" Benjamin flushed deeper. "I-I-I no, I, um, what do you, er, that is…"

Nellie felt herself blush crimson, and wondered what Benjamin must be thinking of her at that moment. Why had she had to open her big mouth and say what she thought she'd felt, but was only the remnants of a wistful dream? Now he'd know exactly how she felt, and he'd shun her…

"I-I'm sorry." She gabbled, trying to repair the damage she was sure she'd wrought. "It was stupid o' me. Ignore me. I-I don't know what got into me."

Nellie made to get up, falling back on her method of running away from problems like this, only for Benjamin to grab her arm and pull her gently but firmly back to the ground, and with his other hand clutched the redhead's chin, turning her to face him. Nellie noted the strange sparkle in the brunette's eyes.

"As I was _trying_ to say…" Benjamin's voice was velvety soft, though it held a slight nervous tremor. "Yes, Eleanor Lovett, I _did_ just kiss you. Can I do it again?"

Nellie gawped at her friend, but remembering quickly how lovely the sensation of his lips had been on hers, even when she was only semi-conscious, she quickly nodded.

The kiss was hesitant at first, both of them unsure of how exactly to go about it, but slowly and carefully it deepened a little, and Nellie tentatively put her hand on Benjamin's shoulder. Her lips felt on fire, and at the same time cold as ice and tingling with the same sensation as when she got pins and needles in her leg from sitting on it. But it felt so _good_, all those things rolled into one, and she never wanted it to stop. She could stay like this forever, frozen in time, not needing to eat, drink, sleep or even _breathe_ so long as she was kissing Benjamin.

But after several long moments – though it could have been several centuries for Nellie – they broke apart, both flushed and blinking in slight apprehension of what this meant. Finally Nellie gave a small giggle.

"Well, now I know." She declared saucily. "You're not as innocent as you look, Benjamin Barker."

* * *

Nellie peered through the small pane of glass set into the door to Mr Todd's barber shop, his dinner on a tray clutched in her hands. The sight that met her eyes made her smile with relief. The barber was sprawled in his own chair, in what seemed a most uncomfortable position, but he was alseep. Nellie hadn't yet seen him sleep, and from the relentless pacing he did at nigth - which she'd begun to think of, however strangely, as her own personal lullaby - the baker had wondered if he ever slept at all. So much about the man had changed that Nellie could hardly believe he had ever been the innocent teenage boy that had kissed her in Hyde Park.

Opening the door carefully, so as to not wake the man, Nellie carefully set the tray down on the chest they had stored Pirelli's body in, on the off-chance Mr Todd would awake hungry, and was about to tiptoe out, when an idea came to her. Smiling, the baker stepped carefully over to the chair, avoiding the creaky floorboards, and planted a soft kiss on Mr Todd's pale cheek.

"Sweet dreams, love." Nellie murmured, and went out again, closing the door quietly, and flicking the sign to closed.

So she didn't see the small smirk that graced the barber's lips, nor hear the softly-spoken word he emitted.

"Still a vixen then, 'ey?"


	6. Changes

**Changes**

Summary: There's something different about the woman in the pie shop, and Sweeney finds he can't help but think about her. Maybe… maybe he isn't the only one who changed in fifteen years.

A/N: This one... is a little weird. I'm not sure if it's even directly Sweenett, and it gets kinda disjointed after about halfway, but all the same I really like it. Writing Sweeney in first person is easier than expected, but the downside is after a while his thoughts just bunch together and stuff.

I now officially own a little bit of Sweeney Todd, and have done since I walked out of Woolworths with the DVD xD I watched it earlier, and it got me inspired to write this, since when Sweeney's sat there while Mrs Lovett's singing, he looks pretty deep in thought, so this is my view on what was going through his mind.

* * *

When I walked into the shop, I suppose I expected it to be the same as it was fifteen years ago. Bright, cheerful, smelling of hot meat pies, and filled to the brim with a bubbling Mrs Lovett. That was just how she was, no argument, no confusion. Just pure, simple Nellie, the one who was always laughing, talking, singing, dreaming about the sea. She never stopped, she hardly ever slept! She was just _there_. A constant, if you will.

For a few moments I wondered if the shop – despite the sign outside – was under new management. That woman stood there behind the filthy, flour-covered counter… that wasn't her, was it? No, surely not. Her hair was curly, but limp, messy, knotted. Her eyes were brown, yes, but dark and joyless. Her skin was too pale; her freckles had faded away, dark rings beneath her eyes. I was so sure that I'd made a mistake I turned to leave again.

Then she looked up, and for a split-second I saw recognition spark in her eyes – half-expected her to go back to normal – but then it faded. I wondered if she had recognised me, seen through what nobody else had. She was like that, Mrs Lovett, loud and sometimes brash, but she could be quiet and watchful, too, when it suited her. Oh, and didn't I know she could watch! I'd felt her eyes ever since we met. Still, I knew it was her – especially when she started singing! I never knew whether her bursting into song randomly like that amused or irritated me, even when I was better tempered. I suppose it depended on my mood. Right then I expected to find it irritating, but I suppose relief that there was one constant after fifteen years twisted my opinion.

The novelty wore off quickly, though, so I tuned her out and concentrated on the shop. What had happened to it? True, Mrs Lovett had always been messy, but she cleaned up at the end of the day, wiping the counters down, washing the dishes. And the pies! They looked… well, to be frank they looked disgusting. I began to rethink my certainty that this woman was Mrs Lovett. Perhaps a relative? That made sense. She'd handed the shop over to a relative after managing to convince her husband to move to the sea or whatever it was she was always talking about. I silently cursed. Now what? I hadn't considered the possibility that she wouldn't be here. Foolish, really, but still, as I said – she was a constant. She was always there. She was Nellie, the one who was always ready with a comforting word, a joke, that laugh that lit all of her up.

Then again, that's what I've learnt – nothing is constant. Nothing is forever.

But if the shop was under new management… where were Lucy and Johanna? Lucy wouldn't stay somewhere if it was as awful as this shop had become. How was I supposed to find them? Would they even want me back? Johanna wouldn't know me, Lucy…

No, I wouldn't think that way. God, I _couldn't_ think that way.

She – this woman who couldn't be Nellie – put a pie in front of me. God, does she actually expect me to eat it? I prodded it, wondering if it was actually fit for human consumption. Probably not, but then it couldn't be any worse than what we'd eaten in Australia. I picked it up and bit the smallest piece off I could, and gagged. No, _definitely_ not her cooking. Fifteen years, and I still remembered how she would insist Lucy and I come down once a week – at the least, often she invited us down every over night – and cooked us all, including her husband, lovely meals. If Nellie was nothing else, she was a good cook.

Ah, ale. Excellent. I took a long gulp, and shuddered as I swallowed. Dear Lord, did she call that alcohol?

I wonder… why can I remember her cooking and not Lucy's? No – that's wrong, I do remember.

I do. I have to. I _do_ remember. I do.

Lucy. Yes, Lucy, think about Lucy. Beautiful Lucy, my wife, with yellow hair like wheat. God, where is she? And why is she still yammering? No, I don't mean that. Or do I?

No. I don't. I don't think. She gandered at Benjamin Barker, but Benjamin Barker started it, in all honestly, and anyway she was just a harmless little thing. A pretty, harmless little thing that was a curiosity more than anything. She wasn't as beautiful as Lucy, or as well mannered.

...Was that a _cockroach_ that just crawled out of the pie?

And Johanna. My baby girl. No – not a baby. Think, think. Sixteen. Yes, she's sixteen now. Baby girl all grown up. God damn you Turpin, why did you make me miss my daughter growing up?

Wait… she stopped singing. Damn, did she just say something? Yes… it looks like she asked me a question. Or proposed something? I think I heard the word 'gin'… Yes, she's going into the other room, that's where Nellie kept the gin. God, who _is_ this woman? She looks like Nellie – well, sort of – and she acts like Nellie, to an extent, but she's so _changed_. Like… well…

Like me. God, she's changed as much as I have, hasn't she? I'm… Oh, I don't even know if there's a word for what _I_ am. Of _course_ people change. It's been fifteen bloody years. So… either she's changed, or it's someone else. But no, I don't really believe she's someone else, not now. I… I think… yes, I think it _is_ her. But where's her husband – Albert, wasn't it? – and Lucy. Where's Lucy? Where are my wife and daughter? And why has she changed? Hell, why do I care?

I know why I care. No, I'm not going to deny it, I can't be bothered. I give a damn because I could talk to her. Yes, _that's_ the damn reason. I could really talk to her – or, rather, Benjamin Barker could. Nellie was a friendly ear. And maybe…

No. I'm not going there. I refuse to go there. But even so it comes to mind, Hyde Park, _our_ place. That afternoon. God… what were we? Fourteen? Fifteen? Something ridiculous like that.

No. No. Can't think of that. _Won't_ think of that. Damn, why am I thinking of that?

Follow her. Yes, follow her, ask her about Lucy. She'll know, she'll tell me where they are. They'll be fine; they'll _both_ be fine. I'll have my family again. It might not be like I dreamed, won't be like I remembered, but the three of us will get by.

And I'll find out why she changed.


	7. Romanticizing

**Romanticizing**

Summary: When an unexpected storm means that Nellie stays at Benjamin's house longer than planned, Benjamin takes the initiative, and manages to finally make his little redhead see sense.

A/N: I seem to be falling into a pattern here – one Benjamin/Nellie fic, and then one Sweenett, and then another Benjamin/Nellie, etc. etc. Oh well, I think that's a good thing. Also, this ties in with Chapter 11 of I Doubt If Anyone Would Know.

* * *

"We're goin' to get caught, y'know." Nellie commented conversationally as she lounged in a luxuriously comfortable, velvet-covered armchair, her head resting in her hands as she watched Benjamin playing the piano, her foot tapping the carpet softly in time to the melody.

"Don't be ridiculous, Nell, my parents won't be home for hours." The brunette teen replied, his playing never faltering, despite not having his full attention on it. At the redhead's small snort of disbelief, he added: "Besides, if we did get caught – which we _won't_ – I'd take the blame, and my parents can't do anything _too_ awful. Besides, they're always encouraging me to 'make friends', as if I'm a _child_, for God's sake, so I can't see why they'd even care."

Nellie shook her head gently but didn't reply, knowing full well that Benjamin wouldn't see her point, simply because he didn't see her in the same light as other people. Right from when they had met three years ago, Benjamin had seen past the simple slum girl on the outside and into the kind-hearted, intelligent one on the inside. However, not everyone was as understanding, and whilst Benjamin's parents weren't exactly noble snobs, the quality of their home – which seemed to Nellie like a small mansion compared to her own – spoke for itself: Mr and Mrs Barker would not appreciate Benjamin bringing a slum girl home. Benjamin knew this too, deep down, though he didn't admit it; why else would he make excuses to come and meet her, rather than tell the truth? If he felt he could tell his parents that his best friend was a girl living in near-poverty on Fleet Street, then Benjamin wouldn't have had to wait until he was sure his parents would be out all day to invite her over – Nellie had been to the Barker household a grand total of three times.

Emitting a soft sigh that was inaudible over the music flowing from the piano, Nellie brushed those thoughts aside and directed her gaze back to the book in her lap. Ever since Benjamin had begun to teach her to read about six months after their initial meeting, Nellie had been fascinated by the fictional world, eagerly devouring novels, despite the fact she stumbled on words even now, and she was re-reading one of her favourites – a penny dreadful entitled _The String Of Pearls_. Benjamin had glanced through it once and shaken his head at her slight foolishness. Well how was she supposed to know that a story that claimed to be a 'domestic romance' was actually about murders, cannibalism and other such subjects? When Nellie had put this question to Benjamin, he had simply laughed and not answered. Still, once she had gotten past the first few chapters, the story had well and truly grabbed Nellie's interest, and in some ways she admired the baker for having the guts she did.

Some time later, Benjamin stopped playing, and when Nellie looked up, she saw he was staring at one of the room's large windows. As she followed his gaze, Nellie mentally cursed. Rain was falling heavily, and already the streets were emptying of people, even the beggars trying to escape the deluge. Hastily, Nellie jumped to her feet and rushed to the window, her fingers going white as she gripped the windowsill tightly, staring at the rain desperately, as if she could force it to cease simply through sheer willpower.

"Now what?" The redhead asked rhetorically. "I'm goin' to get soaked. It'll ruin me dress, an' it's new…"

"It came on rather quickly." Benjamin reasoned, coming up behind his friend. "Usually when that happens, it stops quickly too. Look, come and sit back down for a while, Nellie, and we'll see if it slows down any. Like I said, there's no rush – my parents won't be coming back from that wedding until late tonight, knowing my father."

Nellie looked up at Benjamin's bitter expression with sympathy. She recalled Benjamin confessing to her that he suspected his father was becoming an alcoholic, as he stayed out later and later, coming back drunk without exception. The only question was _how_ drunk he'd be. And at a friend's wedding, where drink would be in no short supply… The redhead slipped her arm around the brunette's elbow and gave it a squeeze of understanding.

"You ne'er know." She whispered. "Maybe your mother'll drag 'im away 'fore 'e gets too bad."

Benjamin gave a short chuckle, but it was completely devoid of humour.

"Nellie, my mother would prefer my father to drink himself to the grave than suffer the 'scandal' of showing he wasn't the ruling power in our household." He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Besides, he wouldn't listen to her."

There was nothing Nellie could say to that, so they simply stood where they were, silently watching the rain pound down on the street outside, until finally Benjamin put a false smile on is face and turned to his friend.

"Come on, Nell, we needn't dwell on this. It's their problem, not ours. Now, didn't I say I'd teach you how to play chess?"

* * *

An hour and half a dozen chess games later, Nellie conceded that she was simply not cut out for the game. She grasped the basics – which pieces moved where and such – but she completely lacked any tactical abilities, meaning that Benjamin won every single game, even if he did go extremely easy on her. The record number of pieces Nellie had taken was three – and they were all pawns Benjamin had deliberately put in the line of fire to make her feel better. Sighing, Nellie rested her head in her hands, elbows resting on the edge of the board as she watched Benjamin place her king in checkmate yet again.

"I don't think chess is me game." She declared, and Benjamin agreed with her, adding that lots of people weren't good at chess.

"Anyway, I can only play it because Charlotte got bored just playing against our tutor." He added. "I'm no expert really."

"Right." Nellie raised an eyebrow and drew the word out, and then added, before Benjamin could argue: "I'll go an' see if the rain's stopped yet."

It hadn't. If anything, the rain was coming down harder than ever, and the wind was picking up too, making the branches of the trees in the garden dance wildly. Nellie felt the beginning of panic begin to bubble up inside her. It would have been bad enough if her new dress had gotten ruined by the rain on the walk home – but she couldn't walk through a storm! Nellie lived a good thirty-five minutes away form Benjamin, and – although she knew it was probably just an urban myth – there was always the chance she'd get struck by lightening. Even though everyone she spoke to told her that this was extremely unlikely, especially since she was relatively short, Nellie had an inborn fear of anything to do with storms. From the way the wind howled to the echoing rumble of thunder, she hated it. As a child, she'd often climb in with one of her sisters when storms raged, but now that she was sixteen she had to pretend they didn't bother her anymore, when really all she wanted to do was hide or be held until it was over. Nellie couldn't understand how Coral could sit by the window and watch the storm rage with a dreamy expression on her face, and gave a small shiver at the thought. A hand rested on her shoulder, making her jump.

"Nellie?" Of course, it was only Benjamin. His expression was curious, with a tinge of amusement, as it always was when he found out something new about her. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, jus' none too keen on storms." She explained. "I 'ope it clears up 'fore I 'ave to go 'ome."

"Well, if it doesn't you'll just have to stay here for the night." Benjamin reasoned, and Nellie whirled to face him, wide-eyed. Worried, she placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

"Are you out o' your mind, Benjamin?" She demanded, after making sure her friend wasn't ill with a fever that was causing him to speak so. "Your parents would ne'er-"

"They don't have to know." Benjamin cut her off smoothly. "Besides, not even Father would send you home in this."

"Hmmm." Nellie looked back at the window, knowing she wouldn't win this argument at this moment in time. "Well, we'll see."

"What do you want to do now, then, Miss Andrews?" Benjamin hooked his arm through the redhead's elbow, acting as if she was the lady of the house. "Shall we retreat to the retiring room, or would her Ladyship like to take high tea now?"

Nellie giggled and was about to answer in a similarly exaggerated manner when, simultaneously, her stomach and Benjamin's rumbled. They both paused for a moment, and then burst into laughter, and continued for what seemed an eternity. They were still chuckling weakly five minutes later, when one of the maids came in. They fell silent as she stared, her eyes looking ready to pop out of her skull when she saw Benjamin's arm around Nellie's, and without a word she turned and rushed off to share the gossip. This, of course, only served to revive their gales of merriment. Eventually, Nellie wiped her tears away, and Benjamin gathered himself together.

"You do know she's goin' to be tellin' ev'ryone I'm your secret mistress o' somethin' now, right?" She asked as they walked through the house, still arm in arm, towards the kitchen. Benjamin shrugged, unconcerned.

"Oh well. She's new – Amber, I think her name is – she's replacing Rosie. You know, she got married to the Heatheringtons' stable lad and they moved to the sea. Point is, nobody will believe her. Cook rules over them all, anyway, and she knows we're just friends."

"Yeah, s'pose you're right." Nellie replied.

She beat down the thought about how nice it would be to be Benjamin's secret mistress. She loved him deeply, so much that sometimes it surprised even her, and she would do absolutely anything for him if he asked her. Nellie knew that is was useless to love Benjamin – he obviously didn't reciprocate her feelings – but since when did the heart listen to logic? Besides, several incidents over the years had given her hope, though she put it down to spur-of-the-moment jokes and curiosity. The time he'd kissed in her Hyde Park was a prime example. A couple of kisses and she'd gone away in seventh heaven, but at their next meeting he'd acted as if it had never happened. Nellie concluded that the male mind was the strangest thing on Earth.

* * *

In the bright, cheerful Barker kitchen, the rounded cook was busy chatting with one of the maids – though thankfully not the one from earlier – when Nellie and Benjamin entered. Nellie had always liked the cook, Mrs Billing, as she seemed the only one of the several servants to approve of her friendship with Benjamin. As she saw them, the woman gave a cheery smile, her face crinkling.

"'Ello, dears, d'you need somethin'?" She asked, standing up, and shooing the maid with one hand, who promptly buzzed off to do some work. Benjamin led Nellie over to the vacated table and pulled her chair out for her with an unnecessary flourish, making the redhead chuckle and the greying cook shake her head, but smile.

"You an' your jokes, Master Benjamin, will be th' death o' us." She declared.

"Oh well. At least you would die laughing." Benjamin replied, ducking as Mrs Billing mock aimed a rolling pin at his head.

"If I was your mother, you'd 'ave a clip 'round th' ear f'r that." She threatened, but her smile stayed in place. "I don't know 'ow you deal with 'im, Nellie, love."

Nellie chuckled but didn't answer, instead she watched Benjamin as he explained.

"Well, Mrs Billings, I suppose it's because I am the only man willing to serve the beautiful yet provocative Lady Eleanor." He said with a grin. "So, as her loyal manservant, I have brought her Ladyship for high tea, as we are both positively faint with hunger."

The cook shook her head, but played along and soon Nellie and Benjamin were enjoying a welcome snack of various sweet cakes. Nellie savoured every mouthful, feeling as if she was in heaven. As they ate, Mrs Billings fussed around her.

"I don't know, lass, you need some more meat on them bones. You're as thin as a rake."

Nellie blushed and looked down, aware that even with every member of the family working – Nellie herself had a job in a pie shop, helping to make the pies and wait the tables – they barely made enough money to pay the rent and food bills. More often than not, they skipped one or two meals a day. She waited for Benjamin to crack a joke that would lighten the atmosphere again and allow her embarrassment to go unnoticed, but the brunette remained silent. Curious, Nellie glanced up at him and saw an unusually serious and thoughtful expression on his face. After several awkward moments, conversation tentatively resumed once again, but Nellie was aware of Benjamin's eyes on her as they finished their snack.

When they finished the cakes and thanked Mrs Billings once again, Benjamin subtly hustled Nellie from the kitchen and with a sinking feeling the redhead noted the expression on his face. It was both concerned and determined, and Nellie knew from experience that Benjamin was about to try and talk her into accepting charity.

"Me family's doin' fine with money." She lied before her friend could even get going, hoping to forestall a useless debate. However, Benjamin simply gave her his best disbelieving expression.

"Nellie, Mrs Billings was right – there's hardly anything to you. Look, please just let me give you a bit of money. Before you say anything, it's not charity, it's just one friend helping another." There was a note of pleading in Benjamin's voice, and Nellie knew he was only trying to help, but her independence kept her standing firm.

"No, Benjamin, I can't." She replied, crossing her arms stubbornly. "Y'know as well as I do me parents wouldn't accept it anyway. 'Sides, 'ow would I pay you back?"

"You don't need to pay me back, Nell!" Benjamin insisted, and frustration began to creep into his voice, but he simply placed a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Honestly."

"But then it's charity." Nellie stated simply, and sighed, deciding to change the subject and hope divisionary tactics worked. Inspiration came as she glanced out of the window. "God, look at the rain."

It was quite a sight to behold. The rain was coming down so hard and fast there was a constant drumming in the background as it hit the roof, and Nellie could hardly see to the end of the street for the downpour. She gave a small jump as lightning flashed, illuminating the hallway brightly, and then several seconds later the ominous roll of thunder followed. Benjamin put a protective arm around her, and though his eyes were on the rain, he stroked her hair comfortingly.

"Face it Nellie, you can't possibly go home in this." He reasoned gently, and Nellie had to admit he was right. To go trekking through this storm would be madness. Uneasy about both the tempest brewing outside and what was going to happen if she did have to stay, Nellie rested her head on Benjamin's chest and he wrapped both his arms around her, ensconcing her in an embrace.

"Nothing will ever harm you, not while I'm around, I promise you." He whispered into her ear, so softly Nellie wondered if she was imagining it, for a moment later the brunette guided her back towards the living room and sat her in the velvet-covered armchair before settling himself before the piano once more, his joking manner back once again.

"Would madam like to request a song?" Benjamin asked, bringing a smile to the redhead's lips.

"That one you were playin' first." She said. "Pretty Women."

"Your wish is my command."

Benjamin began to play, his fingers gliding elegantly over the ivory and ebony piano keys, as if in some elaborate dance, and a sweet, lilting melody floated around the room. To Nellie's surprise, rather than simply playing the instrumental as he had earlier, Benjamin added his voice, singing softly.

_"Pretty women…_

_Fascinating…_

_Sipping coffee,_

_Dancing…_

_Pretty women_

_Are a wonder—_

_Pretty women._

_Sitting in the window or_

_Standing on the stair,_

_Something in them_

_Cheers the air._

_Pretty women…_

_Silhouetted…_

_Stay within you…_

_Glancing…_

_Stay forever…_

_Breathing lightly…_

_Pretty women…_

_Pretty women!_

_Blowing out their candles or_

_Combing out their hair…_

_Then they leave…_

_Even when they leave you_

_And vanish, they somehow_

_Can still remain_

_There with you,_

_They're there!_

_Ah,_

_Pretty women_

_At their mirrors…_

_In their gardens…_

_Letter-writing…_

_Flower-picking…_

_Weather-watching…_

_How they make a make a man sing!_

_Proof of heaven_

_As you're living—_

_Pretty women!_

_Pretty women, here's to_

_Pretty women, all the_

_Pretty women…_

_Pretty women!"_

Benjamin finished the song and Nellie gave him a warm smile, hiding her surprise. She hadn't had the faintest idea her friend could sing so well, but Benjamin always had a knack for surprising her. Nellie couldn't help but wish she was like the pretty women in the song, then maybe she'd have a chance of being the recipient of Benjamin's love – he already held her heart securely, even if he didn't know it. As if picking up on her thoughts, Benjamin rose and stood behind her chair, bending over to whisper in her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

"_Pretty woman_

_Sitting silent_

_Quiet, afraid_

_Lovely…_

_Scared of the storm_

_Breathing quickly_

_She's a wonder…"_

Nellie was breathing quickly, but it was due to Benjamin being so close to her and acting so intimately, rather than the storm raging outside. Her heart was pounding like a drum, and for the millionth time she wondered if Benjamin did feel something for her besides friendship. It was impossible, of course, but he was so close, that strange expression on his face, the same one from when he'd kissed her at Hyde Park. But Nellie knew Benjamin couldn't possibly love her – why would he, when he could have his pick of the beautiful women who he was acquainted with? They were everything she wasn't: beautiful, well mannered, well versed in etiquette, they would make good wives… With this sobering her thoughts, Nellie managed to keep her voice calm and collected.

"D'you need spectacles, Benjamin? I ain't lovely – nor a wonder come to that."

"Really?" Benjamin asked, his voice slightly husky as he leant further, meaning that their faces were now only a few inches apart. "I beg to differ."

Nellie felt her heart begin to beat quicker once again, and she had to beat down the urge to close the distance between them and crash her lips onto Benjamin's. Didn't he know what he was doing to her, playing around like he was? But no, of course he didn't – that was the whole point, he had no idea that he was torturing her simply by being so close.

"In fact," Benjamin continued, seemingly unaware of Nellie's uneasiness, "I think you're quite simply gorgeous, Nellie, my little wonder."

Benjamin's hand slipped around the back of Nellie's head, supporting it and angling it, his fingers intertwining with her wild auburn curls. Hardly aware of what she was doing, the redhead reached up and linked her hands around Benjamin's neck, encouraging him and urging him to kiss her. With a small smirk, he leaned in…

…Just as the living room door opened and someone cleared their throat loudly. The teens sprang apart, eyes wide, and then Benjamin gave a small growl of displeasure only Nellie heard. Stood in the doorway was Amber, the maid who had interrupted them earlier, flicking her shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair lazily. She had a strangely triumphant expression that slid off her face when faced with Benjamin's dark one. It took Nellie a few seconds, but she quickly figured out what was running through the maid's mind – she must be sweet on Benjamin herself, and jealous of the situation Nellie had found herself in. If only she knew…

"Master Benjamin, a telegram arrived for you." Amber announced innocently, placing it on a coffee table and turning to almost skip out of the room.

"Damnable…" The rest of Benjamin's muttered insult was lost as he released Nellie and went to retrieve the telegram. The redhead sighed sadly to herself, almost able to taste the kiss she'd come within a hair's breadth of receiving.

"Good news?" She asked, noting that Benjamin's expression had lightened slightly. At her words, the brunette turned and gave Nellie a wide smile.

"Extremely. Because of the storm – and, I suspect, my father liquor intake – my parents are staying the night at the newlyweds' house, along with a couple of others." At Nellie's confused expression – she could not see what was so good about that news – Benjamin sighed and sat down on a sofa, stretching elegantly before shifting into a lounging position. "Don't you see, Nell? You can stay the night here, no trouble, because my parents will never know."

"What 'bout that maid, Amber? She'd prob'ly tell 'em tomorrow mornin' – she's dead sweet on you, y'know." Nellie informed her friend, who simply gave another shrug.

"Really Nellie, who do you think they will believe? Besides, I'll have a word with her later. God, I wish I knew what it was that makes women tick." He sighed and closed his eyes. "Feel like sharing the secret, my dear?"

Nellie giggled and shook her head. "S'all part o' me feminine mystique, love."

Then her eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth, not quite able to believe the pet name had slipped out so easily. However, Benjamin didn't react, even though he must have heard, so after several long moments that seemed to last a lifetime, Nellie began to relax. But suddenly Benjamin stood up in one fluid movement and gave her a smirk.

"Now, Nellie, if memory serves, I believe we were in the middle of something…"

* * *

Five minutes or so later found Benjamin sat in Nellie's favourite armchair, the redhead sat in his lap with her head resting on her shoulder. Both of them were smiling gently, and Benjamin was stroking Nellie's hair, as had become his habit. It was almost second nature now, and it was like a comfort to both of them. Every so often Nellie gave a small, happy sigh and shifted position slightly, amusingly reminding Benjamin of a cat. A wild, beautiful, confusing cat. On an impulse, he leaned in and captured her lips again. He had barely been able to believe his luck when he'd heard Nellie call him 'love', knowing she didn't call people affectionate nicknames as easily as he did – though truth be told, she was the only one he had ever addressed as 'my dear', 'pet' or a host of other monikers. However, a sudden thought made him curse mentally. He was almost certain he loved Nellie – however, having never felt this way before, he couldn't be sure – but what if she didn't love him? What if she thought of this as another of his elaborate games? Unlikely, but there was always the chance…

"Benjamin," Nellie began, breaking through his thoughts. "D'you love me?"

Benjamin considered his words carefully before answering, knowing by the hope that lit Nellie's eyes that what he said would have an impact bigger than he could grasp. It would not be fair on either of them if he told Nellie he loved her, only to realise later he didn't. Yet… the way it comforted him to have her close, the way all his worries floated away when he felt her touch, the way nothing appealed to him like her scent, the smell of cinnamon and herbs. The way he longed for her when they were parted, and selfishly kept her to himself when they were together. The way he felt truly alive and on fire with ardour when they kissed… if that wasn't love, what was?

"Yes." He replied slowly. "I do believe I am well and truly in love with you, Nellie."

"S'good." Even though Nellie's face was currently nuzzled into his neck, Benjamin could feel the smile on it, the expression of pure contentment he saw far too rarely. "I love you too. Always 'ave done."

"Always?" Benjamin echoed, surprised. "Well, why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" The redhead retorted, and the brunette had to admit she had a point. He gave a small chuckle at their foolishness.

"I suppose we should have admitted all this earlier." He commented. "Would have saved us both rather a lot of anxiety."

"Yeah…" Nellie's voice is heavy with the words she isn't saying. Benjamin remains determinedly taciturn until she gives a small sigh and elaborates. "What 'bout when you get married?"

"Then I shall have a beautiful, redheaded wife who worries too damn much." Benjamin shot back immediately, impatience tingeing his voice. He simply couldn't understand what Nellie was getting at; why she continually worried about the future when all Benjamin could see was happiness. He loved her and she loved him. What could possibly go wrong?

"They won't let you marry me." The redhead murmured, glancing away, and Benjamin didn't even have to ask who 'they' were. Gently, he took hold of Nellie's chin and turned it so she was facing him.

"Listen to me, Nellie." He said softly. "I. Love. You. You, not the barber's daughter, not any of the girls who live around here, and certainly not those transparent women who can only think of embroidery. I have no idea where you've gotten this notion that I am completely controlled by my parents, but I am quite free to do whatever I want."

With that, Benjamin leant forwards and captured Nellie's lips again. As they kissed, all unpleasant thoughts were driven from their minds, and neither could really see how anything could go wrong. It was incomprehensible. They were in love, and there was no power in the world stronger than that.


End file.
